The Camp by kit Crumb Page A

reaction and he was pushing and she was resisting. Kind of an arm wrestling with the feet. She always lost.  
    Rye shook his head. “The guy’s a predator. I don’t know why Paul puts up with the relationship.”
    “I think Paul’s right. If he questioned her choice of boyfriend, he’d be questioning her judgment. Hell, she’s exploring her world.”
    Claire pulled her foot away and rolled onto her left shoulder, putting her back to Rye.
    “Yeah, well, it’s Paul’s responsibility to make sure she isn’t hurt while exploring.”
    Rye dropped off his elbow onto his shoulder, reached around, and cupped her right breast. “Say, you’re a little hot about this.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. “I’m going to do a little research into this trafficking stuff. Got anything planned for our days off?”
    “Funny you should ask.”  
    He loosened his grip on her breast in anticipation.  
    “I found a way to combine training requirements with community service.”  
    “What training requirements?”
      She rolled onto her back again and let the covers fall away, though only to reveal the tops of her breasts, and placed her hands behind her head.
    “River rescue. We’re within 50 miles of the Rogue River. That makes river rescue skills a requirement. The community end is being available for the annual Illinois River Run. That would be day after tomorrow. Aside from that, we need to restock.”
    He pursed his lips and frowned. “When were you going to tell me about this Illinois River thing?” Rye rolled onto his back with a harrumph. Claire rolled on top and pushed on his chest into a sitting position. “Tonight.” She clapped her hands twice and the lamp went out.

Chapter Eleven
    The mattress was on the floor, the sheets were grimy, and Ed felt grungy. He needed a shower, clean clothes, and a smoke, and he was still pissed over Amy’s rejection the night before.
    He pulled on a T-shirt that hung to his waist and figured he’d locate some clean pants later, but he couldn’t find his sandals. He hated walking through the house barefoot. He either ended up stubbing his toe or getting a splinter. He made his way the short distance down the hall to the bathroom and didn’t notice that the shower was running until he walked in. He looked from the corner of his eye fully expecting to see Frank. But the image behind the shower door didn’t match. He turned to get a better look.  
    The body in the shower was silhouetted by the window light. Back arched, head back, long hair falling straight down. Breasts pointed at the ceiling, the pelvis thrust out. Her hands were wringing out her hair.
    Ed turned and walked out and down the hall to the kitchen where he found Frank looking sober and sitting in the only kitchen chair that wasn’t broken. “There’s a woman in the shower.”  
    Frank grinned. “I told you I was getting laid.”
    Ed was dumbfounded. What would any woman see in Frank? “You’re kidding.”
    He turned around at the sound of someone coming up behind him. “He is.”
    The woman from the shower was wrapped chest to thighs in a beach towel with a second one incasing her hair. She stuck out a hand. “I’m Cindy.”
    Suddenly remembering himself, he gripped her hand. “I’m underdressed.”
    She looked down. “I can see that, and you are?”
    “Ed Thomas.”
    With what little dignity he retained, Ed stepped around her and headed back to the bathroom.
    “Honestly, Frank. This house is a pigsty.”
    She unwrapped her hair and shook it out. “That guy is supposed to be your pick-up man?”
    Frank stood, walked over to the fridge, took out a beer, turned around, and leaned against the door. “He cleans up really well. Picked up a little fifteen-year-old but blew the test and started getting attached. Then, to make matters worse, he spouted off to her father and his friends about the business.”
    Cindy blanched. “Talk him into coming up to the country store.” She turned toward